Ransom

Tripping over shoes is exactly why I agreed to a puppy, as if four kids isn't enough. Leave your shoes at your own risk with this terror around. You can tell by his shifty eyes he's up to no good!

Unfortunately this cuddly deterrent, capable of devouring his weight in Christmas ornaments, hasn't scared my 15-year-old daughter, the Imelda Marcos of footwear, who has no less than a closet full of shoes laying around on any given day. I have threatened to throw her shoes on the porch with her three brothers' fragrant locker room beauties, however, that's become an expensive proposition with three pairs of hers already stolen.

Apparently her fashion style is in high demand and less rancid than the boys', so I opted for a shoe rack inside, allowing two pairs at a time while training the puppy the rack is off limits. Needless to say, my advanced math teenage daughter cannot count. She entirely consumes the upper rack and most of the floor on any given day, as I'm forced to dig my way to the front door. I've passive aggressively hid shoes under her pillow and thrown them on the back porch to no avail. It was my 8-year-old son who had the best solution. RANSOM!!

The gray Adidas on the top shelf were the prize left in the back of the minivan. My daughter frantically searching for days accused me of hiding them. To be honest, I figured the puppy ate them or buried them under the back deck until my son yelled from the back of the car, "Mommy look what I found!" Woohoo, the missing prize! I must admit his solution was brilliant, a win-win for all. Ransom!

We figured she'd be thrilled he found the missing Adidas. Nope! She was furious, holding her little bro-tato-chip in a headlock, over the three dollars he was charging for their safe return. What's three bucks to a teenager who accumulated a coffer of cash last summer teaching swim lessons at the pool and babysitting? Extortion, blackmail, crime, words spewing from her mouth begging me to do something. "You're getting off cheap," I laughed, winking at my smug 8-year-old son. 

My son carried the shoes in his school backpack hidden from his sister for an entire week without revealing his treasure. His poker face was unflappable while she brooded her loss and her brother's demise. Secretly rooting for the underdog with the brilliant plan, I knew he would ultimately prevail once she caved to an imminent fashion dilemma requiring gray Adidas. 


Sure enough, she coughed up $2 by the end of the week and the little dude graciously accepted less than his original price. After all, a dollar per shoe would buy him more than enough candy for the weekend. Honestly I would've held out for more. 

She was fuming as he raced to unpack the prize; furious she'd neglected to search his school backpack. I must admit I admired his savvy and ability to remain calm in the face of danger, which is more than I can muster most days in the midst of raging teenage hormones. The lucrative businessman simply forked them over with a sweet gap-toothed smile.

We all learned lessons that day. Don't ever leave your shoes in the minivan. Check your brother's backpack when things go missing. Mom will always defend a shrewd business deal. Never underestimate your little brother. Sometimes it's best to let kids work it out themselves. I wonder how much I could get for a garbage bag full of shoes?

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